


Healing Hands

by tuppenny



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Brief Mention of Blood, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: Eurydice's hands get chapped in the winter. Orpheus helps. That's it.





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [passionslipsaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionslipsaway/gifts).

Eurydice hummed as she finished folding the towels and brought them into the bathroom. 

“Thank you, love,” Orpheus said, taking a washcloth off the top and shaking it out. Suddenly, he froze, his eyes fixed on a small red splotch on the white terrycloth. He brought the cloth up to his face and stared, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him before he looked over at his wife. “Are you bleeding?” 

“What?” She said, looking back over her shoulder as she finished stacking the towels onto the small shelf they used for toiletries and washcloths.

“I think you’re bleeding,” Orpheus said, holding the washcloth out for her inspection. “May I see your hands, please?”

Her eyes widened and she turned her hands over, palms facing upwards.

Orpheus gave a pained, sympathetic sigh. “Oh, dear heart,” he said, taking her hands in his and gently tracing a finger along the lines of her cracked and bleeding skin. “How long have they been like this?”

“This is worse than usual,” she said, somewhat defensively. “It’s not as if I _wanted_ this to happen,” she added, yanking her hands back. 

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her. “Of course you didn’t,” he said, uncertain as to why she was upset. “No one wants to be hurt. But it’s winter, and you spend hours every day washing dishes at the bar—of course your hands will get chapped.”

“Exactly,” she said, bringing her folded hands up to her chest. “It was an accident.”

“It was inevitable,” he corrected, placing his hands over hers and bending to kiss her forehead. “But I can fix it.” He paused, searching her eyes for her response. “Will you let me fix it?” 

She stared back at him, feeling a rush of love for him wash over her and warm her all the way down to her toes. No one else had ever taken care of her before—no one else had ever even wanted to try. She was used to being blamed for her own brokenness, to being told that she’d asked for it, or caused it, or should have known better, but Orpheus? Orpheus saw her hurts—both the little, inconsequential ones like this, and the bigger, darker chasms deep within her—and instead of flinching away or simply shaking his head and moving on, he stood alongside her and asked to help. He didn’t always know how, and she didn’t always know how to let him, but he always wanted to. He always _tried._ And even when there wasn’t anything he could do, that desire to help, that fierce and steadfast love, buoyed her through. She didn’t always love herself, no, but Orpheus did. Always. And on her darkest days, his love covered over the lack of hers until she felt strong enough to move again. To try again. To _be_ again. 

“Yes,” she whispered, still holding his gaze. “Fix me. Please.”

His face lit up into a wide smile and he pulled her hands upwards, brushing his lips lightly across them before starting to sing. It was a high melody, a soft melody, a melody of spring and dew and the ferns unfurling after snow, of raindrops soaking into the sun-drenched earth. Eurydice felt her hands begin to soften and mend, the skin knitting itself together and growing plush and supple once more. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of healing of growth—it was painful and prickly and marvelous all at once, and she couldn’t describe it even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. This was something for her and Orpheus alone, intimacy on a level she’d never dreamed she’d have.

“Thank you,” she said eventually, opening her eyes again and smiling up at him as the final notes of his song died away. “I feel better now. I feel… whole.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he ran his fingers over her unmarked palms. “And thank you for letting me help you.” He blinked rapidly then, and his grip on her hands tightened. “Eurydice, I… I love when you let me help you. Thank you.”

She blushed and stretched onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

He beamed and then pulled down a new, clean washcloth to scrub his face. “Come summer, I’ll ask Lady Persephone to bring us verbena and lemon balm and aloe from her mother’s garden.”

“Yes?” She wrinkled her forehead, not following the apparent non sequitur. 

“I’ll use them to make a balm for you,” he explained. “It will keep your hands from drying and cracking next winter. And it smells nice, too,” he added, knowing her love of clean, fresh scents. 

She laughed. “My brilliant poet,” she said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “Full of unexpected talents.”

His eyes brightened at the compliment, and he set the washcloth aside to give her a hug. “Are you happy? I want you to be happy.” 

“Of course I’m happy, love,” she said, returning his embrace, pressing her newly-healed hands against the muscles of his back. “After all, I’m here with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, Anna! <3


End file.
